Chapter 3 - A Seat at the Table
Victor Vance and his men were escorted out of the diner so fast their feet barely touched the pavement. They were never seen on the Northside of Chicago again.
That evening, a sleek black limousine pulled up to our curb. Nikolai knocked politely on the glass door.
"Miss Maya, Mrs. Rose," Nikolai said, holding the door open. "Mr. Volkov requests your presence for dinner at the estate. Little Misha has been asking for you all day."
Grandma Rose looked hesitant, but I put my hand over hers. "It's okay, Grandma. Misha is just a kid. He was scared yesterday."
An hour later, we entered the Volkov estate in Lincoln Park—a massive stone mansion surrounded by high iron gates and armed security. Inside, the grand dining hall was warm, lit by crystal chandeliers and a roaring fireplace.
Misha was waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase. The moment he saw me, his eyes lit up, and he ran across the marble floor, throwing his arms around my waist.
"Maya! You came!" he cheered.
"Hey, buddy," I smiled, hugging him back. "How are you feeling?"
"Good! Papa let me have apple pie for breakfast because I told him yours was the best!"
From the head of a long mahogany table, Mikhail Volkov stood up. He wore a crisp dark suit without a tie, looking less like a nightmare and more like a devoted father.
"Welcome," Mikhail said, gesturing to the chairs set with gold-rimmed china. "Please, sit."
During dinner, the atmosphere was surprisingly peaceful. Mikhail asked about my schoolwork, my dreams, and how Grandma Rose had started her business forty years ago. There was no mention of crime, guns, or the underworld—only a father expressing deep gratitude.
"Maya," Mikhail said as dessert was served. "You showed my son mercy when he was helpless. In my line of work, genuine kindness is rarer than diamonds. I intend to ensure your future is secure."
He slid a document toward my grandmother.
"This is a deed of full ownership for your diner and the apartment above it," Mikhail explained. "No mortgages, no taxes, no debts. It is entirely yours. Furthermore, I have established a trust fund that will cover Maya's entire education—from private high school through medical or law school, whichever she chooses."
May you like
Grandma Rose gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "Mr. Volkov... this is too much. We cannot accept—"
"You can, and you will," Mikhail said firmly, though his eyes were gentle. "Misha lost his mother two years ago. Yesterday, he wandered away because he felt lonely. You fed his body, Maya, but you also comforted his spirit. That is priceless to me."
